


Until Your Blood Runs Cold

by apolkadots



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:15:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9080071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apolkadots/pseuds/apolkadots
Summary: They’ve all managed to stay alive in the midst of a zombie apocalypse for two years now and Louis makes one small mistake that flips their whole world upside down.





	

*NOTE: I do not own this story nor take credit for it.

Seven hundred sixty-four days. It's been seven hundred sixty-four days since the infection broke out, seven hundred sixty-four days that Harry, Louis, Niall, Liam, and Zayn have been living out of an old, rundown warehouse in downtown London, fighting as soldiers against the hoards of flesh eating zombies that the infection had created. 

Harry was only sixteen when the infection reaches his home in Holmes Chapel in the form of his big sister. There'd been rumors of the outbreak in other towns around his, but no rumors about Holmes Chapel itself until the day of June fifteenth, 2012 when Gemma Styles came home from a friend's house with symptoms the flu and woke up the next morning a haggard, vicious zombie.

Harry had been the only one of his family to make it out alive. His mum and dad, throats chewed out before they'd even had the chance to wake up; Gemma, shot in the head by Harry's neighbor and then burned to charred bits to try to stop the infection from spreading - an effort that had been in vain.

Not two weeks after Gemma had brought the infection into Holmes Chapel practically the whole town had been infected, and the only survivors - twelve people, twelve people out of the whole population - grabbing their guns and fleeing the town in search for a refuge, those of which had only been heard of in the big cities.

Somehow, the Holmes Chapel survivors made it to London, two days' worth of travel in stolen cars and on foot, sleeping in dirty, dusty bunkers to keep the zombies out. Yet by the time they'd made it to London they'd lost nearly half of their group to the zombies and through the midst of the death and the gore and the violence, Harry had come into his own. 

Wise beyond his sixteen years, Harry had taken control of the dwindling group of survivors when they'd lost the man leading the group originally the night before. Miraculously he hadn't been questioned, and with his furious determination and sniper shot, Harry had led the group to a shelter for survivors in downtown London where his six could be taken care of, and Harry could finally, finally take a breather for a moment.

Harry's breather lasted for maybe an hour before he was being tapped on the shoulder by a large, stocky brunette man with a shotgun slung over his shoulder and told to report to the meeting room in the very back of the shelter - there were people who wished to speak with him.

Harry had been expecting old, ragged men with scraggly beards and battle scars to await him in the meeting room but instead he was met with four fresh, young faces that weren't carefree like they should have been, but creased and lined with stresses Harry couldn't even begin to think about.

The four men - boys, Harry had corrected - simply stared at him when he'd entered the room, the one with the raven-colored quiff tsk-ing in reproach while the one with the feathered, caramel hair sitting in a crude-looking chair on the end of a crude-looking wooden table observed him studiously and waved the raven-haired one off with a flick of his wrist when he opened his mouth to speak.

"Harry Styles," the blond one to Harry's left drawled and Harry nodded.

"S'me," Harry confirmed and the second brunette with the kind, warm brown eyes smiled at him.

"You've impressed us a great lot, Styles," the brunette said.

"I haven't done anything, though?" Harry remarked, confused.

"You led a group of survivors from Northampton to London solely on your own, a group that had originated in Holmes Chapel, in fact." It was the blond who'd spoken this time.

"We still lost five people," Harry mumbled, guilt flooding through him at the remembrance of those five people, those five faces that had died because the person leading the group had not been a leader adequate enough.

"And you managed to keep six alive, on your own," Blondie pointed out and Kind Brunette nodded in agreement. Quiff and Feathers just continued to stare at him, breaking off in a near-silent conversation with each other at the end of the ruined table. 

"Styles," Harry jumped when Feathers spoke up from his spot at the end of the table, blue eyes steely and hard and his young face creased in thinking. Quiff seemed to be pouting at Feathers' side, crossing his arms over his chest and looking angrily at the dirty floor of the room. "Styles, we want you."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Want me for what?"

"Niall, Liam, Zayn, and I are the heads of security for this shelter," Feathers explained. "We're basically the special forces of the shelter - the first line of defense. We're all great shots and judging from the stories I've caught wind of in the short time you've been here, so are you."

"Are you saying you want me to join you, then?" Harry mused, though he was quite sure that's exactly what Feathers was getting to. 

"Exactly," Feathers said. "It'd be easier to keep watch on the shelter with five of us now instead of four. We could really use you, Styles."

Harry pursed his lips, mulling over the pros and cons in his head. It only took him a second before he was grinning and holding out his hand to Feathers. "I'll do it."

x

Turns out Feathers' name was Louis and he'd come from Doncaster when his neighbors had succumbed to the infection. Quiff's name was Zayn and he'd come from Bradford when, like Harry, only a few people were left uninfected by the zombie virus (Louis'd told Harry that Zayn'd been a bit bitter when he'd asked Harry to join them because up until then he was easily the best shot of the group and now that Harry was part of their little band, he had some actual competition).

Kind Brunette's name was Liam and he'd come from Wolverhampton before the infection had even reached there, playing it safe rather than sorry. Blondie's name was Niall and he'd come all the way from Mullingar in Ireland with his immediate family who were still alive and living in the shelter.

Louis had been the one to start the shelter, only eighteen years old when he'd grabbed the warehouse and worked days upon days to reinforce it, accepting whatever refugees flooded into the dying city, promising them a place to live as long as they helped to rebuild the warehouse with him.

As London fell quicker to the infection more and more people flooded to Louis - he'd managed to gain a pretty impressive reputation in the short time he'd been established as a shelter for the survivors of the infection,and people were confident in his ability to keep them safe. He'd managed to convert the warehouse into a suitable bunker against the zombies and had already led multiple raids to collect food and water from the abandoned stores and the occasional vacant flat, making Louis and his shelter the ideal stronghold for the survivors in the southern parts of London.

Zayn, Liam, and Niall had all come to Louis' shelter within a week of each other, all possessing the skill of shot that Louis had been desiring since he'd established his shelter. Louis had been the best with a gun in the whole shelter up until then and even so, he knew there had to be others better than he. He'd had to rely on the mediocre skills of the other men living there when he'd go out on raids and he'd almost been bitten multiple times when one of the men he'd brought on the raid with him got careless and stopped watching his back. He needed something better and he found that something better in Zayn, Liam, and Niall.

Louis had recruited each of them no problem, and they'd formed their little band of zombie snipers, keeping the residents of their shelter as safe and sound as they possibly could in the midst of a zombie apocalypse.

"This is where you'll be staying," Louis said, gesturing to the makeshift cot of mismatched blankets nestled in one of the far corners of the warehouse, with only a threadbare curtain hanging on nails in the wall for privacy. "If you want better shit, you've got the get it yourself. Coincidentally, we've planned a raid for tomorrow morning at the Primark a couple blocks down to get more clothes and blankets for the refugees. If you find something you like, take it. But it's your job to carry it, so don't get anything too heavy that'd slow you down if we end up having to run from some zombies."

Harry nodded, plopping down on the cot and he winced as he realized the uncomfortable firmness of it. "You're all settled then, yeah?" Louis asked and Harry nodded again. "Think I'm gonna nap," Harry muttered and Louis bobbed his head in understanding. 

"I'll leave you to it, then," Louis said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his worn, red chinos. With one last look to Harry Louis turned and walked away, disappearing on the other side of Harry's threadbare curtain. 

Harry sighed, kicking off his old, ratty converse. They dropped to the hard cement floor with a slight clunking sound and Harry curled under his scratchy, mismatched blankets and laid his head on the lumpy pillow, not realizing how truly tired he was until he'd laid down. 

His heavy lids fell shut and Harry had fallen asleep in minutes.

x

And that's how it'd been from then on, Harry falling easily into the routine of the group - keeping the people of the shelter in line when needed, going out on raids when it was required, and going out on search-and-rescue missions when the rumor of another incoming group of survivors caught wind. It wasn't often that they had an influx of new survivors coming into their shelter and Harry was thankful for that. He hated having to see the haggard faces of those who'd had to fight their way through the horrors that the world had fallen into, hated having to listen to people retell the stories of how they'd had to shoot their loved ones in the head, how they'd had to kill their children, their mothers, fathers, their lovers. It all drove Harry mad.

Louis had become the one Harry could talk to about the nightmares that haunted him at night, about the dreams of Gemma being burned alive, of his parents choking to death on their own blood as the zombie chewed their throats out and then coming to the realization that the zombie was Gemma and Gemma wasn't even Gemma anymore and then she was coming for him, teeth bared, eyes dead, covered in blood - her blood, his mum's blood, his dad's blood all over her body. So much blood, so much blood and he could feel it on his skin and he's covered in it too and the smell-

Harry wakes up screaming, thrashing, crying and then someone's in his ear, running his hands through his curls, shushing him with lips close to his ear and Harry finds solace and calm in knowing that it's Louis and he's wrapped tightly in strong arms against an equally strong chest and he's safe, safe from his horror and his nightmares and for as long as he's lying in Louis' arms in the darkness, he's safe from his life. 

Harry doesn't know when or how it happened, when Louis managed to creep his way into Harry's heart in a matter of weeks, burrowing deeper than anybody ever had before. It seemed to just happened in an instant, like one day Harry just realized that Louis was his soulmate and wanted every piece of him right then and there in that moment. Louis insists that Harry's managed to do the same to him but Harry doesn't believe him because he knows Louis could never love him as intensely as Harry has managed to love him in the short time of only five weeks.

But now, as Louis nuzzles the back of his neck and whispers you're fine's and i love you's and you're safe, you're alright's into his sweat-slicked skin Harry lets himself believe that Louis does love him that much.

"Want to tell me about it?" Louis asks when Harry's finally got his breathing back to normal. He's thankful, so damn thankful that he's taken to sleeping in Louis' bed, this way the others in the shelter won't have to hear his screaming at full volume but muffled by the thin wall that blocks Louis' room from the rest. 

"They're always the same," Harry sniffs, turning on the cot so he can bury his face into Louis' chest and breathe him in, taking comfort in the constant scent of Louis, of musk and roses and cinnamon and his heart slows to it's normal, constant beating once more. "Gemma, my parents, the blood, you know."

"You're alright," Louis lifts Harry from his chest and plants a sweet kiss under Harry's jaw and Harry sighs with content. He tilts his head up and presses his lips to Louis' in a gentle kiss. Louis groans lowly against his lips and pulls Harry closer and Harry lets him because he needs the physical comfort as much as the emotional comfort, and Louis is more than willing to give it to him. 

Louis rolls them so Harry's on his back, careful in the way they maneuver on the slightly-bigger-than-average cot. Louis kisses him like he's glass, like he'll shatter if Louis pushes too hard but Harry wants Louis to push, wants Louis more than he gets during the day with the tiny, split-second fractions of touches and kisses he manages to steal.

They can't do this during the day, when it's their time to watch the shelter and let Zayn, Niall, and Liam sleep before they have to take the night shift. It's no secret that the other three know about Harry and Louis and Harry's grateful that they don't say a word about it because Harry doesn't think he'd be able to handle it if they didn't accept it. They've become his best friends as fast as Louis' become his lover (it all moved very fast after Zayn got over his little bout over Harry's shooting abilities and realized that Harry was sort of awesome) and they've implanted themselves inside of Harry just as deep and Harry knows it's dangerous to make these kinds of bonds when every day the threat of death is much closer than the horizon but he doesn't care. He can't bring himself to care.

Louis strips him slowly, peeling off the cheap pajamas that Harry took from Primark on that very first raid and letting them fall soundlessly to the floor, his fingers tracing mindless patterns over Harry's naked skin. Harry shudders - he loves this. He loves giving everything up to Louis, letting Louis own his body and his mind and his everything so he can just let go and forget that he's living in the middle of Hell and that he's more likely to die tomorrow than he is to live to see the age of eighteen. 

When Louis finally lines up and pushes inside it's without any preparation but the saliva he'd spit into his hand because he knows Harry likes it that way, likes to feel the burn of the stretch for days after they've done it. 

Harry bites his lip to muffle his noises when Louis starts moving inside him, fucking him in long, even strokes. It'd been an unspoken agreement between Harry and Louis that when they had sex they had to be quiet, had to keep their noises from breaching the wall. Harry constantly wished that he could be loud, that he could moan and scream Louis' name when he came, cry out into the stagnant air and let the world know that Louis was his, only his, and Harry planned on keeping Louis forever, zombie apocalypse or not.

When Harry comes he comes silently, spurting wetly between his and Louis' bodies. Louis stifles a moan into Harry's damp neck, sucking a love bite behind Harry's ear and then he comes, kissing the bruise he made as he fills Harry so full. Louis pulls out slow and Harry savors the soreness he feels in his bum already, savors it because it lets him know that this is real, that he's alive, that he's still got Louis by his side.

Louis grabs Harry's discarded shirt from the floor and cleans them up with it, throwing it back down when he's done and moving to spoon against Harry's backside. Harry's eyes droop, relaxing into Louis' touch, sated and happy for now. "Sleep," Louis murmurs into the base of his skull and Harry nods, letting his eyes fall shut.

He sleeps without nightmares for the rest of the night.

x

Seven hundred sixty-four days. It's been seven hundred sixty-four days that Harry, Louis, Liam, Niall, and Zayn have managed to keep their shelter running, keep the survivors and themselves alive. It's on day seven hundred sixty-five that Louis tells them they need to go on another raid, that the food supply has fallen dangerously low and they desperately need to stock up. They'll go on a series of small raids over the next week, collecting the supplies they need from the abandoned Prets and other tiny little cafes left dead in the decrepit city. The first one is tonight, and they've got an hour to prepare for it. 

Harry and Louis prepare for the raid together, loading their guns and packing bags with extra ammo and flashlights if the raid happens to go until after sunset. Their hands brush over and over again as they pack and Louis grabs Harry's hand and squeezes reassuringly when they've zipped up their last bag.

It's not like Harry isn't tough enough for this. It's not like he isn't tough enough to handle the hoards of zombies they're constantly fighting off or the blood and gore that comes with killing hundreds of the things at a time. He's lived to see the age of eighteen - something he'd thought would've been impossible when he'd arrived at the shelter two years ago - and he's hardened immensely in that time. He doesn't have nightmares, not any more. He doesn't dream at all. He sleeps in black and he prefers it that way.

Harry's changed drastically over the past two years, turning from the sixteen year old kid from Holmes Chapel that had nothing going for him except being an amazing shot into the eighteen year old man who'd been fighting a war for survival for two years with a gun slung over his shoulder and another always gripped in his hand, not afraid at all anymore to lift and aim and blow a zombie's head off if need be. It's a drastic change and it'd been completely and utterly inevitable.

Yet, despite how hard he'd turned over the past two years he was always soft for Louis, always converting back to that scared, needy sixteen year old boy who needed Louis' arms around him just to close his eyes at night. He doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing and frankly he's stopped trying to figure it out.

Harry and Louis meet Liam, Niall, and Zayn at the back entrance of the warehouse. They always choose to leave out the back because the zombies haven't quite figured out that there's a back entrance to the warehouse yet and it gives them a solid head start before they have to start worrying about zombies, and the back entrance is out of the view of the main room of the warehouse where all the other people congregate during the day, so this way the boys won't have to worry about a frenzy going down when they all leave at once.

They have a group of men assigned on zombie watch while they're gone, of course, and they're the next best thing, but it seems that the people always get antsy when all five of their leaders leave because it's them and only them who've kept everybody alive for the past two years.

They do a quick gun-check before they head out, making sure nothing is going to jam if they get ambushed by a hoard. Louis goes over the rules like he does every time - don't go off on your own, never leave somebody's back unprotected, keep your gun loaded, don't let your guard down, and most importantly, don't get bitten. They all nod in understanding and then they're off, out the back entrance and into the infected city. 

x

They're in an abandoned Tesco's when it happens. Harry and Niall are scoping out any drinkable liquids, Zayn and Liam are trying to find bread that hasn't been overgrown with mold, and Louis' off by himself with his shotgun, just mindlessly roaming the aisles.

Harry knows that was Louis' first mistake. He broke his own first rule.

Harry's just going to pick up a bottle of sparking water and Niall's scanning the far end of the aisle when he hears the first crash of the glass and the grotesque sound of a zombie's roar - all gurgled blood and decomposed vocal chords that gives for a nasty sounding squall that makes Harry drop the bottle of sparking water and Niall look up frantically from his spot on the south end. Their eyes meet and then Harry's running and ripping his gun off his shoulder before the bottle even hits the ground.

"Louis!" Harry screeches and he can smell them now, smell the rotting flesh and blood and vile and he runs harder because if he can smell them that means they're close, much closer than what could ever be considered safe.

Harry skids around a corner and runs smack into Liam and Zayn and Niall's right behind him, sliding to a halt with his finger on the trigger of his AK-47. "Where's Lou?" Harry asks and Liam opens his mouth to answer but before he can get a word out, Louis' piecing scream is answering for him.

Five seconds. It takes them five seconds to find Louis on the ground in the frozen foods aisle, fighting off three zombies with sagging skin and missing limbs and hurling blood from their mouths. Louis' beating one off with the butt of his shotgun and the other two with his feet, kicking and bashing in a frantic attempt to stay alive.

There's blood all over the floor and thankfully it's all got that sickly brownish tint to it that shows Harry that it's all zombie blood, that there's no fresh blood on the tiles and Louis hasn't been bitten. Harry raises his shotgun and Niall aims his AK and they shoot, three bullets to the zombies' heads in a clean kill. Zayn and Liam shoot the zombies again just to be sure, only putting their guns down when the zombies stop twitching all together.

Louis' still laying on the ground, covered in zombie blood, clutching his shotgun so hard his knuckles have turned white. "Lou," Harry coos, crouching down to floor-level and holding out his hand. "Come on, we're leaving."

Louis turns his head to look at the other four and his eyes are wild, scared, and his usual tan pallor is a sickly-looking pale. A sinking feeling takes over Harry's whole being because he's never seen Louis look this way, not even that one time when a hoard of what had to be over a hundred zombies attacked the shelter and maybe fifty got in before the five of them could shoot them all, and twelve people inside had been bitten. It had been the worst zombie encounter the shelter'd had since Louis'd established it, and still Louis hadn't looked as bad then as he does now.

"Louis?" Harry tries again. He hears the other three shuffling about behind him, forming a wall with their backs to Harry just in case more zombies are on their way. "Louis, what's going on?"

Louis' head whips to the side for a split second and then back to Harry and his pupils shrink from hugely-dilated back to normal, and the pallor of his face fades back to it's golden, tan color. "Harry," Louis says and his voice is brittle as glass. "Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry-"

"I'm right here," Harry says, grabbing hold of Louis' arm and pulling him into his chest, away from the carcasses of the zombies. "I'm right here, Lou, you're okay."

"No I'm not," Louis mutters and Harry's heart stops, stutters, and picks up again, erratic. 

"Louis, what do you-"

"I'm going to die." Louis says and Zayn, Liam, and Niall turn around just in time to watch as Louis pulls up the leg of his old, faded red chinos to reveal a perfect, bloody half-crescent in the flesh of his calve. Harry's heart really does stop this time.

Louis' been bitten. 

Louis' going to die.

x

Harry wakes up groggy, not fully aware of his surroundings and his head is throbbing. He hisses in pain, pressing the heel of his hand to his temple to try to stop the pounding and the second his hand touches down, everything comes rushing back.

The raid. The Tesco's. The zombies. Louis' bite. The way he'd completely gone off the edge, screaming and crying and clutching at Louis so hard that Louis cried out in pain, the way he'd thrashed and fought against Liam when Liam's yanked him off of Louis so Niall could check out Louis' wound. He'd fought so hard that Liam had accidentally dropped him and he'd hit his head on one of the shelves in the aisle and knocked himself out - which explained the horrid pounding in his head.

Harry groaned, rubbing the backs of his fists over his eyes, sitting up on the cot and looking around when his vision clears. The firsts thing he realizes is that he's back in his original space, on his stupid tiny cot with his scratchy blankets and all he wants to be is with Louis.

Harry plants his feet on the ground and shivers, the cement cold on his bare feet. He sways a bit when he tries to take a step, his head still fogged and throbbing but he forces himself to think through it, to focus not on the pain but on LouisLouisLouis and that's what gets Harry up and really moving, pushing through and around anything or anyone that gets in his way.

Harry runs right smack into Zayn outside of the door to Louis' room, and Zayn steadies him with two hands on his shoulders. "Harry, you shouldn't be up-"

"Let me see him," Harry demands immediately and Zayn bites his lip. 

"I don't think that's a good idea, mate."

"Why not?" Harry growls and Zayn sighs.

"Do you not remember the massive freak out you had at Tesco's?" Zayn chides. "We can't have that again. Not right now."

"I'm fine, Zayn," Harry replies snarkily. "I'm not going to freak out. I just - I just want to see him. Please let me - let me see him."

Zayn sighs and Harry watches his defense come down. "Niall's almost finished patching him up," he says and then backs off the door, letting Harry step forward and twist the knob, the door coming open with an audible creak.

Harry's eyes land on Louis the second he enters the room. Louis' spread out on his cot with Niall sitting between his legs, arm thrown over his eyes in pain and Niall works over him and it only takes Harry a second to realize that the movement of Niall's hand means he's giving Louis stitches.

The slam of the door makes Louis tear his arm away from his eyes and deep blue meets green and despite everything, Louis fucking smiles. "Hey Hazza," Louis murmurs and his voice sounds rough and Harry's breath catches in his throat because there it is, that first little sign of the infection. 

"Lou," Harry breathes. His heart is hammering, beating his chest so hard he feels like it might bruise his skin on the outside. 

Louis smiles at him and it falls when Niall puts the last stitch in, Louis wincing at the pain. "There," Niall mumbles, "It's finished."

"Thanks, Nurse Niall," Louis grins and Harry wonders how on Earth Louis can be grinning now, grinning after he's just gotten stitches to close up the wound caused by the bite of a zombie, which coincidentally also means that in what could be minutes, hours, or days, Louis is going to be a raging, snarling monster and they're going to have no choice but to shoot him in the head. 

Niall just nods solemnly, getting up off the bed, trying to inconspicuously wipe away the tears that have been streaming down his cheeks. 

"I-I'll leave you t-two alone," Niall hiccups. He keeps his eyes downcast as he shuffles out the door and then Harry can hear Zayn's voice asking Niall if he's alright and the way Niall breaks down in heaving sobs and Harry's heart clenches because this is really it. They've lost one of their own and Harry knows it's only a matter of time before each and every one of them breaks down, just like Niall.

The sobs get quieter and Harry knows Zayn's taken Niall away, probably to his own little room because Zayn always takes care of Niall when Niall gets a bit overwhelmed and needs a cuddle and Harry wonders for a moment in the back of his mind if Niall is Zayn's Louis. For the sake of the both of them, Harry hopes Niall is. 

They're fragile, the both of them, more fragile than they like to let on. All of them are, in all actuality, and Harry knows that this, that losing Louis, is going to be the thing that finally breaks them. He just hopes that they'll at least be strong enough to hold each other up when Louis is gone because it's always been Lou who's held them together.

"Come here, Harry," Louis orders and Harry can tell he's trying to make his voice soft but yet it still cracks and Harry flinches because he can hear it already, hear the gurgled, rough squall of the zombies and he knows in a matter of only dayshoursminutes, it's going to be the gurgled, rough squall of Louis. 

Harry waits one, two minutes before he can force his legs to move, force himself to go to Louis, force himself to lay down in Louis' arms, and force himself not to cry. "Talk to me, Haz," Louis pleads and Harry squeezes his eyes shut because he can't. He can't lay there and talk to Louis like nothing is wrong and everything is perfectly normal when it's so obviously not.

"How long?" is what Harry chokes out when he can finally bring himself to speak and he feels Louis deflate immediately. 

"Three days," Louis says flatly and that's it. Harry lets out a strangled, sob-like sort of sound and let's himself cry, lets Louis turn him around to tuck his face into his neck, lets him scream into his skin until his throat feels raw.

Harry sobs hard enough for it to hurt - his chest aches, his throat burns, and his body as a whole won't stop shaking. He feels so pitiful, so weak because Louis' the one who's dying and he's not even crying. "Shhh, Hazza," Louis coos and brushes a hand through Harry's curls. His fingers are shaking. "It's going to be alright."

"No Lou, it's not." Harry whines. "You're dying and there's nothing I can do to stop it."

"We're all going to die some day or another, Harry," Louis murmurs. "It just so happens that my time is a little earlier than everybody else's."

"God, Louis!" Harry shouts, shoving at Louis' chest. "How can you be so goddamn calm about this? You're going to die in three days and you're acting like it doesn't even phase you!"

Louis sighs, eyes slipping closed as he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Exactly, Harry. I've got three days left. I'm not going to spend it wallowing in self pity when I can spend it to the fullest. I'm not going to feel sorry for myself."

Harry hiccups, burrowing deeper into Louis' arms. "I can't lose you."

"You're not losing me forever," Louis murmurs, pressing scattered kisses over Harry's forehead. "Isn't that the whole thing? We'll be reunited one day?"

"I don't know if I can-"

Louis' rough hand at Harry's chin makes him jump. "You listen to me, Harry, and you listen well," he jerks, making Harry look right up at him. "You are going to live. You are going to keep going when I'm not here any more. You're going to keep living for the both of us. Don't you fucking dare think about dying, do you understand me? The end of my life is not the end of yours. Do you understand?"

Harry clenches his eyes shut.

"Harry," Louis hisses. "Do. You. Understand?"

"I can't, Lou. Don't make me."

"You are not going to fucking die, Harry!" Louis shouts. "You are going to live as long as you're supposed to and then when God decides it's you're time to die, that is when you will die. Not now, Harry, not now."

"I love you," Harry says and he thinks he can physically feel his heart break in two. 

"Don't say it like you're saying goodbye," Louis murmurs, nuzzling his nose along Harry's tear-stained face. "S'not goodbye, not yet."

"Not yet," Harry mutters, tilting his chin up so that Louis' lips brush against his. Not yet, not yet, not yet.

He's still got three days. 

x

Louis' three days go by very, very slow, and Harry's both thankful and regretful. Thankful because it makes him feel like he has more time than he actually has, like he has more time to love and touch and get his fill of Louis before he's got to tell him goodbye, regretful because he can physically see the changes the infection is causing on Louis' body and his mind and it's happening slow but still all too fast.

Harry sees it right when Louis wakes up on the morning of his first day and he can't get out of bed right away. He has to grit his teeth and, even with all of his strength put into trying, still has to ask Harry to help him up. Harry pretends not to notice how cold Louis' hands are.

For all of Louis' first morning, Niall, Liam, and Zayn are all walking on eggshells. They bristle every time Louis comes near them and they cringe away in fear, not of the infection but of getting too close and letting Louis see them break down, much too weak to even try to be strong when Louis needs them the most. So they simply keep their distance.

They only stop when Louis confronts them about it in the evening, screaming at them to stop treating him like he's dying (even though he is - he just doesn't want them to treat him like it). 

They fix themselves immediately and Niall ends up breaking down in only minutes. Nobody even asks a question when Zayn kisses him calm again. Liam doesn't talk for the rest of the night.

Later, when Harry takes Louis to bed Louis lets everything out, venting with anger and sadness and misery about how they're all falling apart, about how the whole shelter is going to go to shit if the four of them can't hold themselves together when Louis dies. Harry says nothing, just lets Louis rant and then kisses him hard when he's finished.

They make love that night with Harry on top, riding atop Louis' pelvis. They stay as close as they can, pressed chest to chest and when he sinks balls deep Louis lets his lips brush Harry's ear and he murmurs, "Be as loud as you want, love. Let the whole shelter hear you." And Harry obeys. 

He throws his head back and moans loud, as loud as he can when he sinks down on Louis' cock for the second time and Louis groans, hips stuttering weakly upwards. 

The sound of skin slapping skin reverberates off the paper-thin walls and Harry's sure that the whole place can hear them fucking and he doesn't care, not one bit.

The closer he gets to orgasm the tighter his chest gets and the more his eyes sting, the reality that this could be the last time he and Louis do this ripping through him like a bullet. It takes his heart and his lungs and he can't help it when his tears spill over and he's legitimately sobbing through his orgasm, heaving weakly into Louis' neck. 

Louis comes buried deep inside him and his breath hitches and Harry knows he's crying too. It's a release, in more than one way, and Louis needs it just as much as Harry does - probably more. After all, Harry's not the one turning into a zombie.

Louis pulls out with a perverse, wet sound and Harry shudders as he feels Louis' come leak out of him but he can't be bothered by it, wanting every single little piece of Louis he can get.

Louis scoots down the cot with Harry still on top of him and Harry tries not to hear the way he grunts with the exertion. He works the blankets up with his toes and throws them over his and Harry's bodies when he gets them close enough and Harry sighs, snuggling into the warmth and not giving a shit about the come that's drying sticky between them.

They fall asleep like that, with Harry nuzzled into Louis's chest and Louis' arms wrapped over Harry's lower back and if Harry's tears dampen Louis' skin in the middle of the night, he doesn't say a word about it.

x

The morning of day two is worse than day one by tenfold. Louis can't even sit up without Harry's help - not to mention how he'd woken up struggling for air from having Harry's full weight on top of him, something he used to be able to handle with ease - and Harry has to pick him up bridal style just to get him off the cot. 

Louis' tan complexion is starting to fade into the pale color of death and that alone is enough to choke Harry up again because Louis' always had such gorgeous, gorgeous skin and it physically pains Harry to watch it waste away. He's got dark bags under his eyes that have nothing to do with sleep and his lips seem to crack just from talking, talking in a voice that's ragged and haggard and doesn't even sound like Louis any more.

Niall is even worse today and Zayn and Liam are starting to crack too, tweaking just under the surface. Zayn doesn't leave Niall's side and Liam's found comfort in a pretty, curly-haired girl called Danielle who'd recently come to the shelter after her brother was killed. Niall can't even look at Louis without bursting into tears and Harry can't even bring himself to tell Niall to hold it together because all Harry wants to do is fall apart too.

x

On day three, Louis can't even get out of bed, with or without Harry's help. He's gotten thin, so thin in the span of three days that it's sickening but when Harry remembers what Louis is turning into, he stops thinking about it all together.

They're lying on the cot together when Harry starts to notice the tweaks, starts to notice how Louis' limbs will twitch and flex completely on their own, starts to notice how Louis will begin to growl, deep and threatening low in his chest like a savage, notices how Louis will lose his train of thought and not find it again until many minutes later and Harry knows it's only going to get worse as Louis' last day carries on.He tries not to think about it too much.

Harry's lying against Louis' side, drawing mindless patterns onto the skin of Louis' sunken stomach when Zayn bursts into their room, eyes wild and more full of life than Harry's seen in three days. "Zayn?" Louis croaks.

"Guy, guys, there's-" Zayn pauses, adjusting himself in the doorway. "A new group of refugees just came in a few hours ago. We were doing check in and - and we found out one of them is a minister."

Harry perks up immediately. "You mean-?"

"Yes," Zayn chirps and Harry feels a sudden influx of love for this boy because, through all of the pain and the shit of the last three days Zayn finds excitement and happiness in finding something for Harry and Louis. 

"Lou, Lou did you hear that?" Harry asks, softly running his fingers through Louis' lackluster hair. 

"Hey Hazza," Louis says with a grin, wincing a bit when his lips split, "Will you marry me?"

Harry laughs, a real laugh for the first time in days, and kisses Louis on the lips, as gently as he can. "Of course," he turns his attention to Zayn. "Bring the minister here, yeah? And Niall and Liam."

Zayn nods once before he's ducking back out the door. Harry quickly sits up, collecting Louis into his arms. Louis feels even more brittle when he's sitting in Harry's lap and again, Harry's hit with the realization that today is Louis' very last day. Harry bites his lip to fight off the tears. 

Zayn returns in only a matter of minutes, the minister - a man of maybe forty with greying brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses sitting atop his nose - inching slowly in behind him. Liam and Niall come in not ten seconds later and they all gather around the cot, the minister standing at the foot.

"What's your name, sir?" Louis asks and Niall cringes a bit at the horrible quality of his voice. 

"Hale," the minister says with a grim smile, "Jonathan Hale."

"Jonathan Hale," Louis croaks, "Thank you for doing this."

"It's my pleasure," Jonathan claps his hands together. "Now, who's ready to get married?"

x

It's been three hours since the minister Jonathan had pronounced Harry and Louis married and Harry has sat on the cot with Louis in his arms watching as, with each minute that ticked by, Louis got progressively worse and worse. The tweaks have gotten angrier, with full-on rages that Louis can't control, growls and screams that rip out of Louis' chest without any warning at all, and Louis'd forgotten Harry's name for a full ten minutes. 

Zayn, Niall, and Liam have been taking turns coming to Louis' door, not saying a word and not having to - Harry knows exactly why they're doing it - and when Zayn peeks his face around the door and Louis catches his eye and snarls, baring his teeth and lashing outwards at him, eyes wild, Harry turns to him with tears spilling over his cheeks and whispers, "It's time."

Zayn backs away from the door without a word, going to collect Liam and Niall to come and say their final goodbyes. "Louis? Louis, love, can you hear me?" Harry murmurs, petting cautiously along Louis' sick, jutting cheekbones. 

Louis clenches his eyes shut and shakes his head, trying to force himself to think through the haze slowly taking over his mind. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here," Louis says and Harry has to strain to hear him. "S'time, isn't it?"

Harry chokes back a sob, nodding. "It's time," he mutters.

"Les'go then," Louis says and he's slurring his words and Harry knows that they have twenty, thirty minutes max before Louis' not Louis anymore.

Harry slips off the cot and sweeps Louis up into his arms, wrapped in his blankets, just as Zayn, Niall, and Liam walk back into the room. They hesitate and Louis grins at them, assuring them that he's still him, for the time being. 

"Lou," Liam is the first to speak, hands balled into fists. He presses one into his eyes as he tries not to cry and fail, the tears flowing freely down his face. "I'm going to miss you so much."

"Me too, mate," Zayn murmurs, voice cracking. "So, so much."

Louis smiles sadly at the both of them before turning his attention to Niall who's sobbing uncontrollably in the doorway. "Nialler," Louis coos and it just makes Niall sob harder, folding in on himself and sinking down onto the concrete floor. 

"We love you, Lou, so much," Liam says and Louis nods, understanding. "I know," he murmurs. "I love you lads, too. We had a great couple years, yeah?"

"Yeah," Zayn smiles sadly. "We had a great couple years. Wish-"

Whatever words Zayn was going to say are cut off as a grotesque snarl rips it's way up and out Louis' throat and he arches and convulses in Harry's arms. Niall's gone into hysterics in the doorway and Liam and Zayn offer Harry their last words of sympathy before they leave, Zayn collecting Niall in his arms and carrying him away. Liam slips a pistol into Harry's waistband without a word and then he's gone, too. 

Lou is still writhing in Harry's arms, growling and stopping and growling again as Louis fights for control of his own body. "Haz-" he tries and it cuts off with a gurgle and Harry has to close his eyes when blood dribbles down Louis' pale, pale chin. 

"C'mon, Lou, let's go," Harry murmurs, more to himself than Louis. He walks barefoot from Louis' room, making his way to the back entrance of the warehouse and out into the huge back parking lot, laying Louis down on the ground once they've gotten a decent distance away. He knows he'll have to be quick about it as he slips his shirt off over his head, tearing it into strips with his teeth.

Louis watches silently from the ground and Harry knows that Lou's brought himself back, that's he's got control again, for now. He watches as Harry yanks on the strips to test their strength and, when he deduces that they're strong enough, bends down and asks Louis to give him his hands.

Harry takes Louis' shaking, cold hands in his own and binds them with the strips, asking for his ankles next, binding those as well. "Never thought the first time one us tied the other up would be ending quite like this, huh Haz?" Louis rasps and Harry can't even smile at Louis' poor attempt at humor. 

"Now we wait," Harry whispers, crouching down and sitting cross-legged in front of Louis. 

"We wait," Louis agrees and he closes his eyes and tries to even out his breaths. "Talk to me. So you know when I'm not me any more."

Harry swallows hard, fighting back the tears that burn at his eyes, begging the spill over. He takes a deep breath and begins to talk, talk about everything and nothing at all, and slowly but much too quickly, Louis' answers start to make less and less sense and then they stop all together, turning into growls and snarls and he starts thrashing against his restraints.

Louis' eyes snap open and the bright blue Harry fell in love with have turned a dirty, musty brown and the whites are a sickly green and that's the last sign that confirms to Harry that it's over, that Louis is gone, gone, gone.

Louis spits blood and thrashes and snarls and shrieks, fighting hard at his restraints, trying desperately to stand up and get to Harry, get to Harry and rip his throat out.

"Louis," Harry calls and Louis screams, and it's that same horrid, gurgled sound that Harry's associated with death for the last two years of his life. "I love you." He says and Louis thrashes, smashing his face into the ground and knocking out three or four teeth. 

"I love you," Harry says again and he finally lets the tears flood over, streaking his cheeks and wracking his body with sobs. He reaches back and grabs ahold of the pistol. Louis screeches. Harry raises the pistol, cocks it, and aims through the blur of his tears. His finger shakes on the trigger.

"I love you," he says through gritted teeth, one last time, and steadies himself for the shot. He counts down from three in his head.

When his countdown hits one he pulls the trigger. 

The shot is clean and Louis' brain splatters onto the concrete, painting it that dead, murky brown. 

Harry stands there, staring at Louis' body, at the death on the concrete, and he screams. He screams until his throat is raw and his head is pounding, until there's arms wrapped around him and Liam's pulling him away, telling him that he has to stop screaming, he has to stop or the zombies are going to come and they can't risk that, not right after this. Harry doesn't stop screaming and Liam's forced to muffle Harry with his hand.

Harry collapses into Liam's body and lets Liam carry him inside and when Zayn goes outside with a shovel and a shotgun to give Louis' body a proper burial, Harry doesn't object.

That night, Harry lies alone in his cot for the first time in nearly two years and he remembers what Louis said to him on the day he was bitten and Harry vows to himself that he's going to do it, that he's going to live and he's going to live damn fucking well because that's what Louis wanted him to do.

He's going to do everything that Louis told him to do and when it's all said and done, he's going to see Louis again.


End file.
